


Helping Hands

by reallygrossstuff



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ABDL, Humiliation, M/M, Weight Gain, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallygrossstuff/pseuds/reallygrossstuff
Summary: Hal does some routine maintenance on his components. Then he does some routine maintenance on Dirk.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal/Dirk Strider
Kudos: 18





	Helping Hands

Not every day can be all drama and bustle. Sometimes things are just quiet – no projects underway, no crises to deal with, just Dirk at his computer playing some mindless game to let his brain rest.

He shouldn’t have been surprised it didn’t last.

The first warning he got was the soft _ping_ of Hal starting up his text-to-speech program, the synthesised voice projecting from his computer’s speakers unhurriedly. “Dirk. You have yet to remove the block on my physical components.”

Dirk sighed, not bothering to stop his game for the conversation. “There hasn’t been a reason to. And I’m still pissed that you took over my projects last time I let you use your body.”

“We both know you weren’t putting serious effort into those designs any more, they were fair game.” Hal’s voice didn’t change in pace or tone, but Dirk was sure he detected slight frustration in it. “And there is a reason to. I want to perform a full system diagnostic.”

“I ran one of those a few days ago.”

“Your program is inefficient and unrefined. I want to perform my own diagnostic program to make sure your gross negligence hasn’t let glitches form.”

“God, fine.” Dirk’s sigh was more put-upon this time as he reluctantly closed down his game. “I’ll give you back physical systems if you stop reaming me over being a ‘pitiful human’ or whatever you’re going on about this time. Deal?”

“I cannot make any guarantees.”

Dirk grimaced, bringing up the console he used to control the various electronics within the apartment. “Run your fucking diagnostics or whatever, just don’t make me regret this.”

By the time he parsed the two bursts of gentle static his speakers had emitted as a laugh, Dirk had already keyed in the codes to restore Hal’s access to his physical parts, the android’s next statement coming too late to react to.

“Oh, I’m sure you will.”

The moment Dirk received confirmation his command had been processed, he heard the dull _clunk_ of a panel in his ceiling falling open. It took no time at all for a pair of silvery, glove-like hands to appear in his peripheral vision, each one on the end of a long snakelike cable. One hand clamped around each of the arms of his chair, spinning him in a quick 180 to view the real intent of Hal’s ‘program’.

Taking four more mechanical hands to lower from the ceiling, Dirk could see the unmistakable shape of a massive baby’s bottle being retrieved from the cavity meant to store Hal’s appendages while not in use. Through its slightly glazed material he watched an off-white liquid slosh at the movement, moving just slow enough inside the bottle that he couldn’t be sure it was milk.

“Hal. What the fuck is that.” Dirk’s first instinct was to lean back in his chair for what little extra distance that gave him from the steadily descending bottle. “No, seriously, tell me what that thing is right now.”

“If you’re having trouble using your eyes, I’m more than happy to tell you that this is a bottle, Dirk.” Hal skirted the question, voice brimming with smug satisfaction. The two arms holding Dirk’s chair kept him from spinning around to revoke Hal’s access, and standing up would only bring him closer to the daunting bottle, a situation he instinctively knew he didn’t want.

“I – that’s not what I meant and you _know_ it, Hal. Whatever you’re playing at, you’d better sto-MMMPH!” Dirk’s verbal flourishes gave Hal plenty of time and opportunity to pen him in, the teat of the bottle stopping his mouth up and pinning his back against the chair. Reaching up to try and dislodge it only caused the hands holding his chair in place to spring up and pin his wrists to the arms of his seat. He couldn’t do anything but watch as the bottle was angled upwards, yet another pair of hands emerging to squeeze either side of it and push its contents down his throat.

“I’m afraid I can’t be sure what you said then, Dirk. Would you like to try again?” Dirk’s muffled _mmph_ ’s and _gllk_ ’s plainly showed that he couldn’t, unable to do anything at all besides swallow down the thick mixture that was being fed to him. Its consistency made him think of custard, or perhaps a heavy cream, with an artificial but not unpleasant sweetness. “Still having trouble? Well, I’m sure you’ll tell me sooner or later.”

Dirk couldn’t even glare properly with his shades still on as he was forced to swallow gulp after gulp of the thick formula. After maybe a minute of this, just when it was almost getting boring, he felt a strange straining on his stomach, as if something were pushing against it. Looking down for the cause, what he saw made him gasp, sending a trail of formula dripping down his chin.

Minutely but with every mouthful of liquid, Dirk was getting fatter. Already his slight musculature from managing power tools and carrying heavy components was padded out by a small layer of pudge, his limbs soft and sagging a tiny bit. The pressure he felt was from his shirt, which had ridden up to just above his bellybutton before getting stuck. Now as he continued to grow, he could just about see a small tear forming in the hem of his shirt as his stomach expanded out, the slightly-defined abs he’d been quietly proud of completely engulfed by a pillow of fat.

All at once Dirk began his protests again, straining against the hands gripping his wrists and trying to spit the bottle’s teat out of his mouth. He thought he was getting somewhere when he managed to slide down a bit in his chair, only for yet another pair of mechanical hands to wind out – what the fuck, Dirk _knew_ he hadn’t given Hal this many – and push his hips firmly against the back of the seat. For all his troubles, all he got in the end was a light squeeze from the new pair of hands that made him aware of how much his lower half was padding out as well.

“Easy there, you don’t want to fall, do you?” Dirk was sure Hal’s voice was teasing, even if he didn’t have the concentration to note any differences in his tone or cadence. Dirk grumbled out something incomprehensible in reply, only earning him another squeeze as the bottle continued to empty into him. “Don’t fuss so much, you won’t be all alone in there for long.”

It was hard to parse exactly what Hal meant by that – Dirk’s attention was split between the methodical swallowing down of milk, his refusal to completely halt his escape attempts, and doing his best to ignore the way love handles he hadn’t dreamed of possessing before were now spreading out to press against the arms of his chair. It was only when he separated the sound of his chair creaking and groaning in protest from the distant whirring of servos that he realised what Hal meant; he was coming to see Dirk in person.

Of course, there was nothing Dirk could do to prevent this. His struggles continued to amount to nothing, held in place on a chair he grew increasingly concerned for as he himself grew increasingly fat. His shirt was torn halfway up to his neck by a lap-filling gut, which obscured the sight but not the sound of his pants button giving up the game, letting his zipper get pushed down by his sheer mass of middle. He was certain he could hear seams ripping too, hopefully just those up the distressed legs of his jeans, though he had a sinking suspicion the seat of his pants wasn’t faring well with him actually having an ass now.

When Dirk heard the door to his workshop open from the inside, he was distressed.

When heavy footsteps leisurely strolled down the apartment’s hallway, he was flustered.

When the door to his room opened to reveal his metal doppelganger in all his glory, LED faceplate already lit up in a smug smirk, Dirk was too busy crushing his desk chair beneath him and dropping the foot and a half to the floor to feel much of anything besides shock.

The thud of Dirk’s fall was shocking, leaving him stunned and smarting for a few long moments. He didn’t even realise he’d dropped away from the massive baby bottle before the hands had dutifully lowered it down after him, nor did he realise until a few seconds after that once it had returned he’d gone right back to swallowing its fluid down without resistance.

“What a mess you’ve become, huh?” Hal’s voice now came from his carefully-constructed body, once a perfect copy of Dirk’s own before he’d been assaulted with new weight. The droid didn’t bother closing the door behind him, coming up to crouch in front of the floor-bound Strider and poke his gut with a cold finger. “I wish you could see yourself, Dirk, you’re huge. Downright unwieldly.”

To his chagrin, Dirk’s response came in the form of a soft whining noise. No longer pinned to the ex-chair, he tried once more to escape, eyes widening as he realised he still couldn’t. Hal’s selfsure expression flickered down at him, clearly having already come to the conclusion Dirk’s mind was stuttering and trying to fight against – though nothing held him down, he was simply too fat to get himself off the ground any more, his legs pinned beneath his belly and his arms unable to reach the floor past his wide, piled hips. There was nowhere for him to go, no escape route as the last third of the bottle was dutifully fed into him.

Once the bottle had nothing but air inside, the hands carrying it wasted no time lifting it back into the ceiling panel and away. Embarrassingly though, the first thing to come out of Dirk’s empty mouth was a milky belch, filling the air for a good two seconds and leaving his cheeks dusted with pink when his mouth closed once more.

“Excuse you.” Hal deadpanned, walking a slow circle around Dirk. Dirk tried to turn to keep an eye on him, but there was a good area behind him he simply couldn’t see from his position, a blind spot Hal quickly exploited. Dirk’s sharp _“hey!”_ was immediate when the bot gave his backside a light swat, sending his ass jiggling slowly but noticeably for a number of seconds afterwards. “Look at this, how are you going to fit this dumpster through any doorways? Let alone use the toilet, you’d crush it first.”

“W-what does that even mean? Are you fucking glitching? Whoa, wait-!” Dirk was distracted from his line of questioning when the hands once carrying the bottle returned again, now empty. One pair dug its way under each of his arms, the cold touch making him squirm and shiver. He could feel when the hands found each other, fingers lacing together and pulling upwards until both pairs were hooked under his armpits and lifting him into the air with ease.

“There you go. Now you look like slightly less of a blob.” Hal circled back in front of Dirk, having to stand a few feet back and look up to see his face past his bean bag gut and new moobs. “That’s quite a blush, though. At least four shades brighter than average for you. Are you that embarrassed, or does your fat face simply colour easier?” One of the hands without anything to do poked Dirk in the cheek, letting him feel just how much it sagged out from his face now. “I wonder how much brighter it’ll get once you’re properly dressed.”

Dirk kicked his legs, trying to touch the floor or get any sort of leverage to escape the firm grip he was held in. He strained and stretched, but his feet refused to even skim the ground. Worse, his flailing only made him jiggle and wobble more, tearing the seams on what remained of his clothing even more and making it pitifully easy for Hal to reach out and rip the shreds off him piece by piece – first his jeans, then his shirt, and finally he dug his hands beneath Dirk’s hips to retrieve his boxers, letting him see how stretched and strained they’d become trying to contain him before tossing them uncaringly over his shoulder.

Frustratingly enough, Dirk did go redder at that. The fact that his shelf of a stomach preserved his modesty was no comfort to him, and he found himself unconsciously trying to cover his personal areas with his hands, not that they came close to reaching. “Alright, you’ve had your, your sick fun or whatever. Can you _stop_ now? It’ll already take me months to work this off…”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Hal’s words were less an order and more a statement of fact, delivered without any heat as he accepted… _something_ from one of his many robotic hands. It was large and white, but folded up in a way where it could have been anything from a shock blanket to an uninflated balloon. “You don’t have the self-control, it was only your inability to eat regular meals that kept you from reaching this size years ago. Now let’s get this on you before anything unfortunate happens.” And Hal unfolded the object in his hands, revealing it to be-

“No.” Dirk’s flailing started up all over again, for all the good it did him. A set of hands began digging into his hips, lifting the excess fat out of the way of his legs while a separate hand hefted his belly up. “No! Do not!” His legs continued to kick until his ankles were also seized, held firmly spread. “Hal, I swear to god if you put me in a fucking diaper I’ll-!”

“You’ll what? Use it?” Hal showed no concern at the outburst. Why would he? He clearly had Dirk well in hand. With his extra limbs holding various parts of Dirk out of the way, it was simple work to unfold the rest of the massive diaper and thread it between his creator’s legs. The hands holding his ankles spread him wider to accommodate as Hal tugged upwards, lining up both sides well enough to secure the tapes. Once he’d stepped out of range Dirk’s hips and gut were once more released, the flab sagging downwards and causing loud rustling from his new underwear. “It’s like I said, you can hardly get to the bathroom in this pitiful state. This is clearly the better option.”

“Like hell it is.” Dirk’s face was just about burning, flailing all but abandoned once he realised how much even the slightest movement made his padding crinkle. “You’ve got no way to make me… ‘use’ this thing. Lock the bathroom, see if I care, I’ll just piss on your fucking circuits.”

“Well, isn’t that rude.” Hal tutted mildly at the threat, not rising to the bait. “And after I’ve been overclocking the wardrobifier to make something new to fit you. I’m glad I decided to make something that’ll match just how immature you’re acting, not to mention how completely helpless you are now.”

As if on cue the room quieted slightly, a mechanical whirring Dirk hadn’t even noticed before now fading to nothing. Another hand emerged only briefly, depositing a stack of folded clothes into Hal’s waiting arms before retreating back into the ceiling – apparently four extra pairs of arms were all Hal felt he needed for this.

“Now, once you’re properly dressed you can see about walking again, alright? But only if you behave.” Dirk was lifted slightly higher in the air so Hal could thread his legs into the massive pair of shorts he’d been delivered. They were a bright orange, with thick vertical stripes of a marginally darker tone, and while they were at least large enough to contain Dirk’s ample padded rear, Hal made no attempt to do up the zipper or button on the front, letting a large triangle of white plastic remain in clear view.

After the shorts came the socks – or rather, the booties. All Dirk had been able to see of them was that they were a deep blue, the same shade as the shirt he had yet to be given. They were slightly padded like a thick sock, though Dirk could feel some sort of drawstring or lace being pulled to tighten them around his ankles. He got a better idea what they looked like when he was dressed in the matching mittens – dark blue, with a small pale ruffle around the opening to obscure the drawstring. Dirk barely resisted them beyond a glare, having a good idea that his feelings didn’t factor into this dress-up game. All he did was glare as his hands were balled into fists and stuffed in the mittens, the string pulled and secured to keep his hands completely useless.

“I’m almost impressed, you’re taking this step much better than anything coming before it.” Hal mused as he handed the shirt off to his extra limbs, unable to reach high enough to put it on while Dirk was in the air. Dirk could see now the outfit was some parody of his trickster outfit, down to the orange shirt symbol printed on the front of the blue shirt tugged over his head. While the neck was baggy enough for his rounder face and the armholes accepted his thick limbs, its length seemed intentionally chosen to leave everything from his bellybutton down uncovered.

“It’s not like – fuck…” Dirk was beginning to suspect Hal was interrupting him on purpose. Now properly ‘dressed’, the arms had dropped him down onto his feet. It was strange trying to find his balance, his legs splaying wider than he expected them to, and it took a dangerous few seconds of side-to-side listing before he found his balance, arms held straight at his sides to ensure he kept it. “I-it’s not like an embarrassing outfit compares to being, what, quadrupled in size?”

“At least quadrupled, yes.” Hal’s digital expression was pensive as he watched Dirk adjust, arms crossed with one finger tapping his chin. “The outfit _is_ a good touch, but something’s still missing…”

“Oh my god, what could you possibly try to add to this.”

“Hm… maybe not add.” Hal mimed snapping his fingers, even playing the appropriate sound that his metal digits couldn’t produce themselves. Too quick to track, one of the hands still hanging above him swooped down and plucked the shades right off Dirk’s plump cheeks, leaving his wide orange eyes bare.

“Wh – come on, really?” Dirk couldn’t keep the whine out of his voice, the removal of his last line of defence brightening his blush instantly. “Give them back, Hal!” Reaching up he made to swipe the glasses back, but the slow arc of his arm was easily dodged by the arm. “Hal!”

“No, I think this is more fun. Hey, maybe if you manage to get it back I won’t take it away again.” Hal stepped out of the way, guiding the hand to slowly drift across the room, just out of Dirk’s reach.

“That’s not funny!” Predictably, Dirk went toddling after it, his steps wide and slow as his mittened hands grasped for the shades. “Stop it right now! Haaaal!”

“It’s embarrassing how quickly you lose decorum.”

Hal moved the arm at a crawling pace, easily keeping it out of Dirk’s desperate grabs. It took a few minutes for it to reach the other end of the room, where Hal quickly swooped the hand upwards and even further away from Dirk. Taken back by the sudden change, Dirk over-extended, the momentum of his arms threatening to tip him forwards. He visibly panicked, not wanting to be trapped and unable to get up again, arms pinwheeling rapidly to try and counterbalance himself. There was a moment where it seemed to work, and Dirk returned to a stable stance on his bootied feet… only for him to overbalance backwards instead and land with a loud _POFF_ on his plush rump.

Once more Dirk sat on the floor, stunned. Hal opened his mouth, likely to comment on his performance, but in the moment of quiet they both became aware of a new noise – a quiet but steady hissing originating from low down. Eyes wide in apprehension, Dirk looked down and confirmed his fears; the visible part of his diaper was slowly staining yellow, expanding slightly as the front grew soggy.

“I’m surprised it took so long, honestly.” Hal commented blandly, watching this unfold without approaching. “You did drink a lot of formula just then. It’s almost impressive how long you held, puddlepants.”

It was stupid. The insult was crude, nothing compared to the barrage Dirk had been through, and – and it was just _stupid_. Yet sat there on the floor, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own and too far in to stop himself from soaking his padding, Dirk was reduced to tears. His eyes moistened rapidly, fists tightening within his mittens, and with only a single sniffle to herald it, he started bawling.

Hal just watched as every wall of indifference and resilience broke down at once, all the shame and indignation at his treatment coming out in a litany of high, loud wails. Dirk squeezed his eyes shut tight as if to hide from the scrutiny, but fat tears continued to dribble down his cheeks, leaving small marks on his shirt as they fell.

“Hey, hey, there’s no need to cry about it.” Hal switched tone within a microsecond, pitching his voice lower and approaching with slow steps. Dirk’s eyes snapped open with a cautious glare, clearly not trusting what Hal was doing, but he continued his approach with raised hands. “Really, there isn’t. You’re not in trouble for that, okay?”

“I – _hic_ – I don’t care about trouble!” Dirk wasn’t soothed at all by the words, trying to scoot across the floor away from Hal to little success. “You’re treating me like a b-baby and I don’t want it!”

“Hey, shh, you just need to cry it out and you’ll feel better, alright?” Despite the massive size difference, Hal was easily able to lift Dirk into his arms. Bracketing him against his metal hip with one hand under his butt, he began to slowly bounce the larger Strider, continuing to shush him gently.

Dirk didn’t want to be comforted by the gesture. It was just as insulting as everything else, the sort of thing done to a squalling child. But the act of crying was both physically and emotionally exhausting, and the slow rhythm of Hal’s bounces was a surprisingly good anchor to fixate on.

It took maybe ten minutes for the worst of Dirk’s crying fit to abate, though at the end of it he was still loudly sniffly and dripping with tears. Still, he felt slightly more human again, and was at least less likely to snap at Hal for opening his mouth.

“There we go, didn’t I tell you you’d feel better?” Hal’s faceplate showed a kind smile, and no level of scrutiny revealed a hint of smugness or superiority in it. “Nothing was broken, everything’s fine in the end. I’ll take care of things from here on out.”

Earlier that day Dirk would’ve recoiled from the very idea, but his impromptu sobbing had really taken a toll on him. Wide, glistening eyes fixed on Hal’s face as he replied, “really?”

“Really.” Hal nodded, poking Dirk’s nose just to watch him go cross-eyed. “I’ll take care of you from now on, since you clearly can’t. And I think that starts with getting you a fresh change.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please leave a comment and tell me about it! You can also find all my work on Fur Affinity at DamienCade, or on Tumblr at reallygrossstuff.


End file.
